


Things You Need to Get Across This Universe

by htebazytook



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, First Time, Humor, Romance, Series 2, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-26
Updated: 2012-05-26
Packaged: 2017-11-06 02:04:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/413508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/htebazytook/pseuds/htebazytook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PWP.  For real.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things You Need to Get Across This Universe

**Author's Note:**

> It wasn't easy to avoid the siren call of epic angst, let me tell you.

**Title:** Things You Need to Get Across This Universe  
 **Author:** [](http://htebazytook.livejournal.com/profile)[**htebazytook**](http://htebazytook.livejournal.com/)  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Disclaimer:** <—  
 **Pairing:** Rose/Tenth Doctor  
 **Time Frame:** during series 2  
 **Author's Notes:** It wasn't easy to avoid the siren call of epic angst, let me tell you.  
 **Summary:** PWP. For real.

 

 

"Well! Can't say I'm not glad that's over with," the Doctor says, shuts the door to the TARDIS.

Rose follows him at a somewhat less hyper pace, clearly still mulling things over. She really oughtn't do that—you'd go _mad_ if you did that, for very long. "Those people. Things will never be the same for them, will they? Their whole life."

The Doctor shrugs. "Seems to me that everything in the light and air ought to be happy. Look at us! We're ecstatic, _jubilant_ even . . . " He puts his arm around her, which usually snaps her out of melancholy pretty effectively.

"Right, but we're in the TARDIS."

"Yeah . . . Point is—could be worse. Could be _dead_. Chin up, Rose." He backs off, lets his hand linger on Rose's shoulder a moment to remind himself that she is, indeed, alive.

Rose nods to herself. Then she reels the Doctor in by his tie and kisses him.

The Doctor sways into it on instinct, closes his eyes and kisses back on instinct and wonders just how much of this is his current shell's often vexing libido and how much of it is something else entirely. Of course Rose is _attractive_ , and it certainly didn't help that she went around giving him big doey eyes and flashing exhilarated grins all the time. It's not really fair of her, is it?

He sneaks a glance at Rose while they kiss, and just the knowledge that it's her (and not someone who's temporarily possessed her, for instance) comes with a feeling that goes _thud_ in his chest.

It's just that it's complicated. Always is. In fact it's _more_ complicated then, oh I dunno, quantum mechanics or astrophysics or something—well, not that those were really _very_ complicated, when you got down to it . . . Anyway, there's no handy guidebook for this. It was one thing to mess with the future or the past, and quite another to mess about with people's emotions. Emotions were these unexpectedly deep-rooted creatures that got tugged this way and that by subtle events. Company, laughter, the smell of Rose's hair . . . Subtle things. It was marvelous.

They _have_ been kissing during the Doctor's little reverie, which has clearly been too lovely for him to fully process. Coping mechanism, ha. He outmaneuvers her really, _really_ unfairly luscious mouth enough to say, "Didn't think you were keen on, er, this."

Rose sighs, but it's much less seductive than he would've liked. "You can see right through everyone and everything in seconds. What's really incredible, though, is how bloody ignorant you are about some things."

And see, now, that's unfair, because the Doctor isn't ignorant. He's just adapted—by necessity, mind you–so that he doesn't let _some_ things affect him, if he can help it. Sure, sure . . . he relished relationships on the surface, but you had to make sure only to enjoy it in the moment, be careful not to let emotions sink so deep that they anchored. Knowing he wanted Rose and actually giving in to it were two drastically different things. And, well, of _course_ he wanted her–her voice, her bright body, her infinite eyes.

Rose's mouth's attached to his and it had started out slow and soft but it's now turned hard and hot and inescapable. The Doctor gets his arms around her more securely, pulls her more safely-warmly close and she _mm_ 's into the kiss over and over again before pulling away all of a sudden.

"So, what is it, then?" Rose runs her hands up and down the Doctor's chest, rakes her gaze over him like he's some kind of long-forbidden craving she's about to satisfy, or maybe he's just projecting . . . "Is your cock double-ridged or green or something? Or, oh God, you haven't got _tentacles_?"

". . . Sorry what."

"You!" Rose gestures uselessly.

The Doctor eyes her like she's some kind of exotic alien crea—okay, well. "Sex isn't _that_ different across the galaxy."

"Well _'scuse_ me–I've seen a lot of, of species who don't exactly act human, do they?"

"I act human," the Doctor says, a bit hurt and also very sure that he does a more than decent job of acting human. Better than a lot of humans, really.

"So, it's not 'that different', then? What, does that mean we need protection?"

The Doctor frowns. "Protection from what?"

" _Spectacularly_ ignorant," she sighs. "Do I have to worry about a brood of wee little Time Lords, down the road?"

" _Ohhhh_. No. Interspecies, doesn't work that way. Incompatible. Genetically speaking, I mean. Then _again_ . . ." Rose raises an eyebrow. "Hm, well, that _would_ be interesting if . . . well, if you . . . _huh_! Possibly quite dangerous though, mind you . . ."

Rose snaps her fingers in his face.

"Right, sorry. All present and accounted for." The Doctor draws her closer to prove it, touches her face and gets quickly lost in her eyes and the invitation of her mouth.

Rose reads his mind and kisses him, which spirals into desperation so quickly that she turns away to catch her breath. The Doctor busies himself kissing along her neck in the meantime, runs his hands up her back to feel bones and breathing.

Somewhere in the distance, Rose mutters, "And as for the rest of it, I'm not like to catch some kind of bizarre sexually transmitted disease from you, am I? Well I dunno, maybe that's not a problem—they have a cure for everything in the future right? We could always pop over to New Earth for a couple of booster shots, or whatever . . ."

The Doctor take a step back to huff, "I'm not _diseased_. This face just gets a bit extreme with the expressions, at times and—hang on. So . . . you're willing to risk contracting who knows what kind of future, alien viruses because we can always exploit the space time continuum to make up for any irresponsible behavior?"

"Yeah."

"Huh. Bit self-serving, isn't it?"

"Yeah . . . "

" _Huh_." The Doctor shrugs and kisses her, tired of all this _talk_. And it's one of those lovely sudden kisses during which he keeps her close with fingers in her hair and tries to take the lead but really Rose is irresistibly persuasive at times—this being one of them, apparently, because he just ends up sort of standing there uselessly while she snogs him senseless.

Rose doesn't go weak in his arms or utter his name breathily against his lips–she bites at them, instead. She doesn't cling to him helplessly–she puts his hands on her and busies herself with loosening the Doctor's tie, kissing along his jaw and oh hello, that's Rose's hand flat against the front of his trousers, isn't it? Oh this is happening. Okay. Ngkmfgrwp, goes the Doctor's internal monologue.

The Doctor thinks he might do whatever Rose wanted, right now.

He pushes away from her, got to breathe and remember about thinking, lets out a slow exhale and tries very hard not to listen to Rose's harsh breathing or feel the warmth of her aura. Says, "Rose. Think about how this really turns out, in the end. It's a bad idea. It just is. Nothing lasts, not really."

But Rose looks equally as serious for all that she's currently palming him through his trousers rather insistently. "I know it's a bad idea," she says, and the way she can't quite meet the Doctor's eyes makes him have to tilt her chin up and kiss her again.

Rose loops her arms up around his neck, arcs her body in such a lovely, quintessentially feminine way and everything feels somehow less sexual and more _everything_ , all of a sudden.

The back of Rose's legs hitting the console jolts the kiss apart. The ensuing, insanely loud warning klaxons also disrupt things a bit. The Doctor lunges to shut the thing off, then straightens and meets Rose's eyes and laughs.

Rose laughs too, somewhat shakily. Her heart is racing, which the Doctor knows because they've gone back to kissing in such a way that incorporates every muscle of his body, and oh, Rose _is_ rather good at this.

The Doctor tries not to think about _how_ she'd become good at it, but then of course he does, and several enticing images of Rose in a variety of truly explicit poses flood his imagination–she's in various states of undress, with fun little costumes or revealing, impractical undergarments, or just laid out and wearing nothing at all, but always with this irrepressible smirk just for him and the Doctor forgets about what is or isn't a bad idea, pushes Rose's T-shirt over her head (and she's quick to help, there), tickle of her hair settling down in the aftermath.

Scrabbling fingers slide into the Doctor's hair as he kisses along Rose's neck, sucks at a spot that makes her moan low in her throat before letting her direct him this way and that over her shoulders, collarbone, chest, and the Doctor doesn't in fact feel like battling with her bra at the moment, so he just sort of pulls it down, which has the added bonus of trapping her arms at her sides with the straps.

Rose struggles against this so the Doctor takes her hands in his to still her, and her eyes open lazily to half-mast, dilated and fixed on him while licking her lips unconsciously and if the Doctor had been at all unsure about this before, well, his painfully hard cock certainly begs to differ now.

"Calm down," the Doctor says, not entirely sure who he's addressing, presses a kiss to her slack mouth. "We _do_ have time."

Rose laughs, and the Doctor grins before twining their fingers tighter preemptively and bending to take one of Rose's nipples into his mouth.

Rose's whole body tenses. " _Oh_ God, God . . ."

The Doctor swirls his tongue around tentatively, seeking out the things that get Rose to tighten her grip on his hair the most painfully and then just doing that over and over until he gets to hear his name in her breathless voice. Rose retains the presence of mind to continue tearing at the rest of her clothes, shoes clunking away and shimmying out of her jeans so hastily that the Doctor has to catch her when she stumbles, which they laugh about before kissing again.

The Doctor trails his hands over the exposed skin, down her sides and over her hips, then lower and into astoundingly wet and warm and—mmf. He kisses her, the better to feel her moans vibrate through him as he strokes over her clit lightly, little concentrated presses until Rose is practically keening, then dipping lower and slipping inside for more wetness, then back to her clit to spread it around slickly til she's keening again.

Rose gives an almighty shove, and the Doctor spares a moment to be impressed with her accuracy when he finds himself sitting in the chair. Only a moment, though, because before he's reoriented himself Rose is yanking off his trainers and trousers and other trappings with surprising efficiency. He shrugs out of his jacket while Rose unbuttons his shirt, kisses her while she's pushing it off of his shoulders and he's tearing his tie off and away.

The Doctor hasn't even formulated another plan of attack yet, and then he definitely can't when Rose pauses to suck practically the entire length of his cock into his mouth for one brain-stopping moment before hopping up, straddling the Doctor in the chair and sinking down onto him, into her, oh this . . .

The Doctor doesn't think things like 'amazing' or 'hot'–he thinks things like 'oh, she is so alive' and 'bad idea' but mostly just ' _finally_ '. The Doctor cranes his neck to kiss her and prevent himself from thinking at all. This is surprisingly easy given that Rose has taken to biting at his lips hungrily, and she lets the Doctor's tongue into her mouth with a tiny moan, sucks on it and moans some more and starts to ride him in earnest.

The Doctor's hands fly to her hips, wants to keep her still and fuck her til her eyes roll and she's gasping for more but she bats them away, pulls back from the kiss just enough to say, "Don't touch. My turn to take _you_ somewhere fantastic."

But the Doctor isn't much one for following directions, and anyway he's confident that ducking his head to lick at a nipple might change Rose's mind. Their position is wonderfully amenable to this, in fact, and it would be a shame if he missed an opportunity to feel Rose's moans while he's inside her and he's filling his hands with her bouncing frame. So he does that, and she gasps and threads her fingers through his hair and does give in to it for awhile, but—

Rose stills the Doctor's hands. " _Oi_! No touching."

"Unless I am gravely mistaken, touching _is_ rather the point . . . "

"Well, that may be, but I'm in charge of this operation, right, and I say no touching." It sounds so playful but feels so hearts-racingly _commanding_.

The Doctor blinks rapidly. "Oh . . . well, I . . . "

"Well, you'll do as you're told is what," Rose advises, captures his wrists and slams his hands against the chair rather violently, then follows up with a soft brushing kiss to his chin.

"O . . . kay . . . oh, _f_ –" Kissing again, and lots of it. The Doctor can work with that. And the intercourse, of course—that's also rather nice. Rose rides him at a slower pace, slower but _harder_ and it's like pleasure's knocking the wind out of him, but never _quite_ enough. He wants to hold her down and fuck her through a mattress somewhere, or perhaps through the TARDIS itself, whatever's convenient really . . .

"Doctor," Rose says, hair in her eyes and _so_ tight around him. "What do you want?"

"You. Always you."

Rose kisses him. "You're too sweet for your own good. Tell me _how_."

"Just, ah, just more of this sounds lovely, thanks."

"Faster?"

"Well, yes, I suppose if you . . ." She goes faster. " _Ohh_ , uhhhh . . ."

"Harder?"

"That . . . oka—" She does that, too. "—ohfuckohfuck."

"Doctor?"

He just exhales, "Please . . ."

Rose kisses him, shifts up and before long finds a steady, pulse-pounding rhythm. "Unn, yes, oh _shit_ your cock is perfect, so fucking hard and not too big and _fuck_ , just perfect . . ."

"Er, thanks? I think? And I mean, I don't exactly have control over how, well, how _things_ turn out when I regenerate but you know, always good to know my parts are serviceable, I suppose. Didn't get much use out of this particular one with the last bo—mm."

Rose's silencing fingers to his mouth. She's worrying her bottom lip now as she grinds down harder. "Shhh you seriously never shut up, do you? Oh this feels so good . . . _ah_ . . . " A high-pitched gasp escapes Rose's throat and sparks something in him–he yanks her closer to bite at her kiss-raw lips for himself, gets a grip on her hips and thrusts up in short little bursts that do in fact get Rose's eyes rolling back in her head, and she collapses over him to pant, " _Ah_ just like that, yeah yeah yeah," against his shoulder, hot stream of her breath and her breasts bouncing so that soft pillowy skin meets his own, sticks with sweat and oh, the tight addictive squeeze of her body is, well, addictive. So much stimuli, and he's dizzy with the approach of orgasm and _Rose, Rose, Rose_ throbs in his head but he doesn't realize he's been chanting it out loud until Rose stops him with a messy, ineffective kiss that's just a disjointed mash of mouths in their desperation to get closer than is physically possible and the fantastic smell of her hair and soap and _her_ . . .

Rose seizes one of the Doctor's hands and drags it down, silent plea for him to touch her. He does, thumbs lightly over her clit and lets the movement of his thrusts propel her into the friction. Rose curses and starts moving her hips in tandem with his, now, her moans modulating upward until she stills altogether, presses the Doctor's hand against her and strains and shuts her eyes tight, so gorgeously close–the Doctor flicks over her clit rapidly and her eyes fly open and flutter wildly when she comes, which would be melodramatic if it weren't so captivating, and it's followed by the assault of her gaze gone goldly unfocused and her voice murmuring nonsense syllables.

The Doctor must have been gawking at her like an idiot, because she flashes a smile before bending to kiss him, softer and sweeter than any of their kisses so far, but she spoils it rather deliciously by nudging her nose across his cheek and breathing, " _Fuck_ me," directly into his ear.

The Doctor closes his eyes and shivers. "Oh, well. If you insist," he says, and Rose laughs at that, but he's much too discombobulated to keep up the pretense of wit for long.

Rose's legs are too weak in the wake of orgasm to support her, really, so the Doctor lifts her up and lays her on the nearby console, checks some dials and knobs first but in the end just throws caution to the wind and trusts the TARDIS to take care of things. Really the TARDIS should be thanking them for giving it such a show, as surely it hadn't seen much action in its, well, _time_. Or, then again, who's to say just how far that telepathy went? Oh dear . . .

The Doctor abandons that train of thought quick because now Rose is beckoning him with her legs hanging off the ledge on either side of his while oversaturated green light paints her naked skin.

The Doctor lifts her legs up over his shoulders, kisses her and pushes back inside of her perhaps a bit too quickly, but Rose only flexes her feet against his shoulders and urges him closer. He resumes a cautious pace, breathless with the sight of her so languidly debaucherous beneath him, touching him and watching him and surrounding him.

After awhile Rose makes a frustrated sound and says, "Come _on_ , _really_ fuck me, like . . . urg, just come on . . . "

And the Doctor's not about to argue with such flawless logic, braces himself against the console and fucks her _hard_ , so that her hair and breasts and entire body jostle, and all the Doctor can think is _Oh wow oh fuck this is for me_. He quickens his pace in an attempt to keep up with the rising volume of Rose's demands for more, harder, bloody amazing oh _shit_ . . . Bites her shoulder to stifle his own need to shout and buries his cock deep deep deep inside of her, comes to the music of Rose's erratic breath and her hands still tangling painfully in his hair. Rose tugs his head over to catch his mouth in a kiss before he's even pulled out or caught his breath.

The first thing the Doctor registers is Rose laughing, the shaking of her body, puff of little breaths, the sound of it and the shine of it in her eyes. Oh, this really can't end well.

She studies him a moment, then leans in for a lingering kiss, smiles and extricates herself with much more grace than the Doctor can quite manage—he tidies himself up the best he can and feels ten times as heavy as usual. Drags his trousers and jacket on, can't be bothered with finding his shirt, then stares at control panels mindlessly.

Rose, now mostly clothed, pats him on the shoulder. "So. Where're we off to next, then?" And the Doctor looks over at her and wonders if maybe that had all been a particularly vivid daydream. If so, it would probably be best not to start snogging her immediately, no matter how very smug obviously freshly fucked she looks.

"Off to . . . oh right! _Right_! Well, depends what you want, really, could play a bit of spin the bottle with time, stop a revolution, _start_ a revolution . . . whichever strikes your fancy . . ." Rose is just smiling and nodding, which feels so very normal and like nothing has changed that it's encouraging, really, because nothing _had_ changed—just events had. _Things_ stayed the same. "What was all that then?" he asks, tone light, gestures between them for good measure.

"Huh? Oh! The sex?"

He snaps his fingers. " 'Sex'—of course! That's the one."

Rose shoves him, but she's grinning.

The Doctor grins back, but . . . "Sort of thing that happens out of the blue like that, early 21st century Earth?"

Rose shrugs, looks down, wonderfully shy or sly or something but whatever it is, it makes the Doctor want to kiss her. She says, "It's a bit of a human need, if you like."

" _Human_ need, is it . . ."

"Well yeah." Rose gets up in his personal space, takes his hands. Smiles up at him.

"Hm, not so sure it's just limited to humans, but need? Yeah, I'll give you that."

*


End file.
